The Price of Eternal Vigilance
by notesofwimsey
Summary: Casey is always on watch. But he doesn't always look in the right direction. Ellie/Casey fluff.


_Disclaimer: The characters and setting of "Chuck" belong entirely to Josh Schwartz & Chris Fedak and the team at NBC. No infringement is intended._

_A/N: Chuck has been renewed (yay!), so here is a little celebratory piece of Ellie/Casey fluff. Set any time, no spoilers._

* * *

_  
_

**The Price of Eternal Vigilance**

She was wearing deep yellow, a wisp of a dress that caressed her thighs and plunged the eye towards breasts high and full. He wanted to peel her out of it and take a bite out of the white flesh beneath. He wanted to fist his hands in her dark hair and hold her still while he plundered, feasted, swallowed her whole.

"John?" The voice was sweet and troubled. "Another beer?" She held out a bottle, moisture dripping down the sides, and he envisioned sweat pearling between her breasts, rolling from her temples into her hair.

"John? Are you all right?"

He blinked, trying to smooth out his rapid breathing, and smiled tightly, careful not to brush his hands against hers as he accepted the cold bottle. "Thanks, Ellie."

"You sure you're okay?" She reached a competent hand to touch his forehead, his cheek, and he had to steel himself not to flinch away from her motherly concern. "You look a little flushed, and you're awfully hot."

He caught his agreement between his teeth, denying the reciprocal thought as it rose unbidden. "I'm fine, Doctor Bartowski. Thank you."

She frowned at him prettily, catching her lip between white teeth and gnawing uncertainly. "Well," she said slowly, while he squirmed, "If you're sure. I know doctors can get a little paranoid… seeing illness everywhere." She turned away to talk to another guest, to fulfill her self-imposed duties as hostess of the weekly block party, then turned back suddenly, catching him off guard. Guiltily, he pulled his eyes off the sweet roundness of her ass to catch the worried look in deep brown eyes.

"John? We're … friends, aren't we?"

He took a quick swallow of beer to ease the constriction in his throat, and nodded briefly.

"And you'd tell me? If something was wrong? You'd do that, wouldn't you?"

"Of course," he lied smoothly.

"Because I can't help but feel something is … not right. With Chuck and Sarah."

He resisted the urge to take her hand, to smooth the worry from under her eyes. Chuck. Sarah. Of course.

"I know they say they're happy with the way things are now," she went on quickly, "and Chuck has told me to stay out of things I don't know how many times. But he … he loves her, I know he does. I can tell. And Sarah…" she frowned and looked across the courtyard to where Sarah was standing, strategically placed with a maximum view of the crowd, protected by the walls behind her, eyes always on the move, scanning for trouble.

Ellie continued slowly, "Sarah just doesn't seem at ease, you know? It's as if she is always watching for something terrible to happen."

"Yeah," thought Casey, "But she's usually the terrible thing happening to other people!" He sipped at his beer again to disguise the smirk he could feel tugging on his lips. He would have to tell Sarah her "eternal vigilance" stance was getting noticed. She was going to have to stop hovering over the asset like a mother over a precocious toddler.

Ellie stared up at him again, eyes so big and blue it was like being stared at reproachfully by the ocean, "Can't you tell me what is going on, John? I'm sure you know more than I do."

He glanced over at Sarah, following her concentrated sightline to where Chuck was being pummeled jokingly by Captain Awesome. He was going to have to teach the kid some evasive moves – no guy in his 20s should still getting noogies, even from an older brother type.

"They're … working things out. They'll be okay." As always, lies dripped off his tongue so easily it hurt. Just once, he would like to tell the truth with that same lack of effort.

"And you?" The worry remained in her eyes. She was not taken in by the hollow reassurance. She had been lied to before.

"I'm fine, Ellie."

He wanted to say it angrily – it would fit his cover. He wanted to say it tenderly – it would relieve her worry.

Instead, he said it coldly, dismissively, and saw the light drain from her eyes.

He wanted to apologize, to beg her forgiveness. Instead he turned away and finished what remained in his bottle in one long swallow.

When he turned back, his mask was firmly in place once again. And she had walked away, and was whispering warm, loving words in Devon's ear.


End file.
